The Dangerous Games we Play
by TiffaniLouise
Summary: Lestrade's niece, Elizabeth is not like other women. She has a brilliant mind, lacks emotions and hate physical contact. When she meets Sherlock Holmes and John Watson they mess up her investigation. Soon enough she's in danger, she falls in love with Sherlock Holmes who's feelings are unclear. One thing is for sure though, John has fallen for her and Greg is sleeping with Mycroft.
1. Chapter 1

**Deductions**

The streets of London groaned under the weight of the crowds. The variety of bodies, heading in any direction, towards shops, tourist attractions, restaurants, their homes, the possibilities were endless. Elizabeth's mind danced with the many possibilities and lives of the people around her. She took in as much as she could, but there was so much to experience in the streets which she just could not capture. Her mind was focused on the man weaving his way through the crowds. A man who she knew only by face and meeting him but she needed to know more.

The average sized man was in his early twenties, that much was clear from the way he carried himself, head down like a teenager; he was only just out of university. The teaming of tight jeans and a hoody suggested he was fairly into fashion but pointed more towards comfort. Comfort which he needed when he was moving about, he was moving through the crowd's with ease, he's used to the heavy populated streets. From what she had seen of his face he was fairly attractive with dirty blonde coloured hair that was cut in a short military style.

Elizabeth watched as he stopped by a souvenir shop, she slowed her pace so she wouldn't have to run into him or stop herself before following him. That would look suspicious and she couldn't afford to give herself away now. She pulled the phone out of her pocket and spoke into it.

"Hello" the mindless chatter of the passing people covered up the lack of a person on the receiving end of the phone. "I'm on my way now" she felt like hitting herself for using the oldest trick in the book, the fake phone call but she needed something to buy her some time before she could resume tailing the man.

He came out of the shop a moment later with a small bag, with what seemed to be an 'I Love London' top. She frowned at herself as she slipped the phone back into her pocket and slowly started following him again. Either he had suddenly developed a love for cheap souvenirs or he was changing his MO and incorporating the item to throw the police of his scent.

The man she was following was her biggest suspect in a rape/murder case. She had seen him at two of the crime scenes amongst the crowds and decided to follow him. One crime scene is merely a coincidence but at two crime scenes that were miles away from each other, that was no coincidence. The case she was investigating was the rape of university students, young girls all linked by their similar appearances. Good looking, blonde hair and brown eyes. The change in the MO occurred three months ago, when a young woman named Bianca Stacks was murdered after being raped. She was he first to be killed but not the last. The 5 victims following Bianca: Jane Heeley, Clare Vanderwalt, Amy Reynolds, Penny Smith and Harper Austen were all raped and murdered. Their bodies mutilated and displayed for the police to find and appreciated. The man responsible was highly disturbed and needed to be caught, young women studying to give themselves a good start in lives where having everything taken from them and the population were scared for their sisters, children and friends….

The thought was sent flying from her head as she collided with a tall man that stepped in front of her. Her body bounced off his body and she crashed into a group of girls who were chatting behind her. They screamed as she hit them and tried to move forward, she muttered no apologises "shit" she cursed, as the man she followed moved out of sight. Elizabeth ran her hands through her straight black hair and fought off the urge to cry.

"Miss, are you ok?" a soft voice reached her ears, the man speaking to her was slightly shorter than the average man and dressed in a simple jumper, jeans and a jacket. His military style blonde hair and straight stance told her he was in the army, his steady hands by his sides said doctor. He was stood next to the tall man she had collided with. She looked at the tall man, who was very skinny beneath his long grey coat. He was smartly dressed in a white shirt, blazer and black trousers, he had expensive taste in clothes, but had no obvious care for what he wore except it was obvious he wore nothing else from the slight tan marks on his wrists were the shirt stopped. The tan marks were almost unnoticeable but she could see the small difference from years of observing people. She suspected that there would be a similar mark on his neck but the scarf obscured her view. She lifted her gaze to his face and breathed in at his striking features and curly dark hair. A skinny face with sharp cheek bones, harsh blue eyes beneath dark lashes and a thin line for his pink lips as he bit down whatever comment he was dying to say.

"No I am not ok" she blurted out and gestured towards the tall man "thanks to your friend here, I have lost someone."

The blonde looks at her apologetically "I'm sure he's sorry" he says quickly and looks at tall mane next to him, he whispers "Sherlock, say you're sorry."

The tall man, Sherlock looked at Elizabeth with a annoyed expression "it is not my fault if she has lost her boyfriend in the crowd, if she wasn't following him then this wouldn't be an issue."

Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh at the man, he was staring at her, drinking her information like she did and thought he was so clever. "Nice deduction Loser, but you are wrong and boring me" she spoke with a mocking tone and rolled her eyes at Sherlock.

The blonde haired man laughed wildly at the remark, Sherlock shot him a deadly glare and he bit down on his lip to stop himself laughing. Elizabeth was slightly amused "by your reaction I assume you are not used to your friend being referred to in a derogatory manner, which is such a shame because he's an idiot and you have a nice laugh"

He laughed again and Sherlock looked at him shocked and spoke in amazement "John, she just called me an idiot"

"Yes, I heard" John shot her an apologetic look and ignored the glare that Sherlock sent him.

"A child is insulting me" he huffed in disbelief, throwing his arms around overdramatically; Elizabeth sighed at the sight of this man acting like a child. "she has no idea what she is even implying."

She widened her eyes in disbelief of the grown man in front of her, who was acting like a child. A child in a mood, she positively beamed "Idiot: Early 14th century, person so mentally deficient as to be incapable of ordinary reasoning; Middle English, simple man, uneducated person, layman. Late 14th century, Old French, _idiote_, uneducated or ignorant person, 12th century, from Latin _idiota_, ordinary person, layman, outside, in late Latin, uneducated or ignorant person. From Greek _idiotes_ layman, person lacking in professional skill, as opposed a soldier or skilled writer, Like your friend here" she gestures to John, then continues "used patronisingly for ignorant person, from _idios _meaning one's own." She took a moment to breath "Reader, suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself."

"Mark Twain, 1882" Sherlock finishes, his eyes rolling before settling on the young woman in front of him.

Elizabeth is looking at John who is stood open mouthed, gaping at her. "Close your mouth" Sherlock snaps, John follows his instructions.

"That was amazing" he says softly, still staring at her.

"Was it?" both Sherlock and Elizabeth say simultaneously, the exchange a brief look of annoyance before looking back to John who is holding back a laugh.

"Yes" John states simply. Sherlock's hand slip into his coat pockets automatically and he looks around for a moment before letting his eyes settle on the young woman again.

"Thank you." Elizabeth mouths towards him, she keeps her eyes on John as she begins to walk away "It was nice to meet you" she turns to Sherlock "play nice in the future, then people might actually like you."

He rolled his eyes at her "I don't care if people like me" his voice verging on anger.

"I know you don't, neither do I" she carried on walking away, a smile appearing on her face. Her senses screamed that this wasn't over and as if on cue John called back.

"I don't even know your name" he shouted at her, she turned back and looked at the blonde haired man and his tall companion, who stood still in the crowds.

"No" she laughed to herself "Goodbye John Watson and Sherlock Holmes." She called loud enough for them to hear before walking towards the corner where she lost her suspect moments before meeting the obnoxious Sherlock Holmes and the friendly John Watson.

Elizabeth continued down the street, there was no hope in finding her suspect now. A tube station was within walking distance, cabs were scattered throughout the roads and the buses regular. She sighed, the man had escaped her and she had no way to find him, without a name or any records. There was no way to find someone with merely the image of his face. Although it pained her to admit it to herself, she needed to ask the police for help.

She slipped the phone of out her pocket and typed a quick message

**SY 5:00pm, no questions, be there – EW **

The response was almost immediate; she smiled at the obvious attention that she was getting.

**I'll be there –GL**

She was happy with the reply, no questions like she asked. She slipped the phone back into her pocket and started walking towards Scotland Yard, she had twenty minutes before her meeting with Greg Lestrade.


	2. Chapter 2

**Scotland Yard**

Elizabeth stood leaning against Scotland Yard, she was shivering against the cold wind and looked agitated. Greg was late, only by minutes, but he was still late. She was regretting wearing her denim jacket and wished she had put on her winter coat instead. It was slowly peeling into winter and she should have known better than to stay out until dark without a proper coat on.

"Elizabeth" an approaching voice said, she looked up to face her uncle Lestrade. His hair was greyer than it was the last time she had seen him and he had also gained a few pounds. His belly bulged slightly beneath the white shirt and his grey suit. The top button was undone and the absence of a tie made the outfit seem more comfortable.

"Uncle" she said mirroring his happy tone as they reunited, he didn't make the mistake of hugging her instead he stood in front of her awkwardly. Elizabeth sighed and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in for a tight hug. He stood awkwardly for a few seconds before, breathing out and relaxing into the hug, he brought his arms around her back and held her tightly. Elizabeth's head rested on his shoulder and she breathed in the familiar scent of his aftershave, which produced a musky floral smell. "Thank you for coming."

They both pulled back and stood adjacent to each other "Of course I came" he breathed, confusion was clear on his face "I haven't seen you in months."

She blurted out "Three months, we saw each other when you took my statement and let me stay at your house, I snuck out and avoided you ever since. Before that it was a year gap in the time we saw each other." Greg sighed, the pain in his eyes clear as she continued "Leaving wasn't an attempt to hurt you, I just needed to think."

"For three months? No call or text to tell me that you're alright." He snapped, visually distressed.

"I realise that I should have made some attempt to reassure you of my wellbeing, next time I will be sure to let you know via text, would 'I am alive' be sufficient or would you require more detail." She tried to sound as calm as possible and watched as Greg laughed at her statement.

"I've missed your sense of humour" he said quickly "You've lost weight" he said cautiously, looking at her thinning waist.

"A few pounds" she lied.

He raised an eyebrow at her "I know I am not as smart as you but I would say you have lost over a stone" he said simply.

He was right of course, she had lost a stone and a half, far over a healthy amount but she didn't need her body, it was only transport for her mind. "It's not important right now"

"Your wellbeing isn't important?" he asked quickly "your wellbeing is important to me."

"Can we skip this please?" she pleaded, he sighed, his eyes darting for a moment before settling back on her "I came here for your help."

His eyes widened in surprise and he practically gasped "you came here for help?"

She nodded, not wanting to repeat the statement, saying it once was more than enough. Elizabeth heard footsteps approaching and looked away from her uncle towards the two people coming rapidly towards them. She immediately recognised the tall lean figure with dark curly hair and the shorter man with blonde hair. She sighed and whispered "fuck"; Greg looked at her confused, and then turned to see Sherlock and John approaching. He nodded in their direction "what are you two doing here?"

"Sherlock wanted to talk to you about a case" John said weakly, obviously annoyed to be out of the comfort of his home. When they paused beside Lestrade, both men exchanged a look before smiling at her.

"Sherlock, John" she said quickly, avoiding looking at her Uncle.

Greg looked confused, his eyes darting across their faces "We had the pleasure of meeting earlier, bumped into each other" John offered, knowing Greg was seeking answers "pleasure to see you again" he directed towards Elizabeth and smiled. He offered his hand to her but she shook her head quickly.

"I don't do handshakes, hugs or physical contact" she stated simply and smiled weakly at him. He dropped his hand quickly and smiled reassuringly. Her mind pinged like an elastic band, she hadn't introduced herself "I'm Elizabeth Wilde, Greg's niece."

"Wilde?" Greg questioned, his head snapping around to look at her.

"What's wrong with Wilde?" she asked innocently.

"What's wrong with Lestrade?" he asked, his eyebrow raised and lips pursed. John put his hand on his mouth to stifle his laughter and Sherlock stood staring at her.

"There is nothing wrong with the name Lestrade, it is a fine name. I just happened to stumble across that name one day and picked it up" Greg face dropped and she realised that she had hurt him.

Sherlock interjected, saving her from hurting Lestrade further "Miss Wilde, I assume you are here for your uncle's help with the man that you were following earlier. You pointed out that he was not your boyfriend, you were quite defensive about that in matter of fact, so this man is?"

She thought about lying but decided it would be better to tell the truth, she owed her Uncle that. "He is my chief suspect in a case that I am investigating"

"What Case?" John murmured, the interest written over his face.

"The university rape/murder victims" she sighed "blonde hair, brown eyes. I believe the papers are now referring to his as the 'predator'."

"And that's who you were following earlier?" John spoke quickly, the worry evident in his voice. Sherlock's head move slightly, he heard it to and wondered what made John care about this stranger so much.

She nodded and Greg huffed in disbelief "you could have been his next victim, how could you be so stupid?"

Elizabeth jerked back, the power of his wounds cutting deeper than she anticipated, Sherlock blink furiously and lent back aware of the pain she was in. "I'm hardly his MO, in fact I am the exact opposite." She gestured to her long dark hair and green eyes, tears were forming in the corner of her eyes "I thought you understood me." She pushed past him, her shoulder barging into his arm, Sherlock stepped backwards out of her way and John mirrored his movement. She took a few steps forward, Greg grabbed her arm and pulled her gently back "don't touch me" she spoke in an angry whisper, his arm quickly dropped to his side. She turned back to look at him "you spend every day of your life trying to protect people, solving horrible cases and putting the person responsible behind bars. I thought of all people would understand, all I want to do is stop this monster from killing again. Would it be any different if he preferred black haired girls or if I was at university? It doesn't change a thing, he still needs to be stopped." With that she stalked away, letting the tears roll freely down her face as she walked into the dark London Streets.


	3. Chapter 3

**Tea**

Elizabeth looked at herself in the mirror on the back of her door and smiled, she was standing tall in shiny nude heels, which accentuated the length of her legs. The pale skin of her legs contrasting against the tight ebony material of her strapless black dress, the material stretched over her small frame nicely. She allowed her smile to widen; the outfit was perfect for a night out in a bar while staking out a killer. She noticed her own small frame and her visible bones, her small waist and tiny curves and sighed, she really should have been taking more care of her body. Losing a stone and a half in three months was not healthy, however much she needed her mind, and she needed her body too otherwise it was likely that she would die. She thought herself lucky that it hadn't reached that stage yet.

She pulled the band out of her hair, allowing her newly dies blonde locks to fall in waves down her back. She pushed her hands through her hair and ruffled it to create an effortlessly messy look. Her eyes shone an unfamiliar brown, the contact lenses disguising her own green eyes. This was a small but necessary detail in luring out her killer, it was his MO, something that he hadn't broken yet. The phone on the bedside table, vibrated and pinged loudly breaking her trail of thought and snapping her attention to however had just messaged her. She threw herself on the bed childishly and reached for the phone, she read the message carefully.

**Baker Street, the coffee house café, 30 minutes – SH**

She sighed, and thought to herself about how Sherlock Holmes had gotten her number. He could have asked Lestrade for it but she doubted that he would have willingly given out her number. It was possible that he got it from someone else, but who could have given it to him. She doubted that they knew the same people. Another text broke her concentration.

**Come if convenient – SH**

She sighed at the screen as another text came through.

**Come if inconvenient –SH**

She sighed again and typed back a response.

**If I meet you, will you leave me alone? – EW**

A response came through immediately.

**It is entirely possible – SH**

God, could this man be any more infuriating, she thought to herself as she stood up and slipped on her winter coat. She considered going out via her bedroom door but the thought of running into her dumb, horny roommate. Jason, a junkie with no aspirations except for sleeping with the population of London, he had an obvious crush on Elizabeth and had recently been constantly high. She didn't want to into his while he was under the influence of drugs, he would never leave her alone, especially with her new look. She took a long stride towards the window and pushed it open. One floor up in a block of dingy looking flats, she slipped the shoes off her feet and threw towards the ground.

Elizabeth hooked her legs over the window ledge and jumped out of window. She landed with a soft thud on the pavement, her feet stinging from the initial contact. She winced as she gathered her shoes and placed them back on her feet and started the walk to Baker Street.

The 'coffee house' on Baker Street was a quaint little place, full of people picking up coffees to fuel their days. A variety of people were inside, including a curly haired consulting detective that sat with his back towards her. She suppressed a smile as she walked in and placed herself on the chair adjacent to him. She noted his stern expression, eyes closed and hands steepled beneath his chin, he was deep in thought. So deep in his thought that he was unaware of her presence, she let out a small laugh and poured herself a cup of tea from the pot in between them.

She sipped her tea quietly and waited for him to acknowledge her. After a few minutes he opened his eyes and blinked furiously, re adjusting himself to his surroundings. His hands dropped down from his chin and rested on the table, next to his own mug of tea.

"Sherlock" Elizabeth said quietly, nodding towards him as she took another sip from her tea.

"Miss Wilde, trying to attract a killer?" he gestured towards her sudden change of appearance. New clothes in a different style to the previous day, heels and the most notably changes in her hair and eye colour.

She placed the mug of tea gently on the table and smiles, showing her teeth to him "You could say that" she muttered.

"Is there another way to say it?" he questioned, the annoyance clear in his voice.

"Plenty I'm sure but we stray from the point" she answered simply, allowing her eyes to wander over his body. She observed similar black trousers and a matching jacket, teamed with a grey shirt that brought out the blue in his eyes. The dark scarf hung loosely around his neck and his coat was on but undone. "You were the one that summoned me here, what is it that you want?"

He lent back in his chair, slightly relaxed "Greg and John were concerned about you, they seem to be under the belief that you are in danger." There was a hint of concern in his tone but nothing too obvious.

"And what do you think Sherlock?" she asked quickly, knowing the question would throw him off easily.

He took a deep breath "You are purposely putting yourself in danger that much is clear from your sudden change of appearance."

She interjected quickly "I didn't ask about my motivations, I asked what you think Sherlock."

"It is also my belief that you are placing yourself in danger and I understand their concern for your wellbeing, you are after all quite young" he spoke softly.

She laughed "only understand?" she pouted mockingly "I'm hurt" she smiled "I am 19, not a child anymore." He raised an eyebrow to her and she continued "I understand why Greg is concerned, I'm his niece. But why would John be concerned? I only met him yesterday and we are far from friends."

Sherlock hesitated before he spoke, which was uncommon for him "He is a caring man."

Elizabeth pointed her finger towards him and wagged it playfully "I am not convinced Sherlock" she leant back in her chair and smiled "I think Dr. Watson has a crush" Sherlock raised an eyebrow, which was enough to convince her that she was right. "Rest assured, I do not recuperate such feelings. I will not hurt your friend."

Sherlock smiled mockingly "That was the last of my concerned, John is a grown man if he wants to make a fool of himself, I won't stop him."

Elizabeth was slightly taken back by the statement "it is merely an infatuation, it will wither and die. He'll forget about me soon enough and carry on living his life."

Sherlock stared at her for a moment before asking "do you really believe that?"

She looked at her mug of tea and spoke softly "I believe what I have to. John's a sweet guy and a girl like me, as you have already deduced, would not be good for him." He looked as if he was going to say something but his lips were locked in a thin line. "I don't like human contact either, couldn't even shake his hands, so I doubt I would be able to keep him…" she took a few moments to find the appropriate words "satisfied."

Sherlock looked at her, processing everything she had just said. She forced on a smile and spoke "I have somewhere to be Sherlock, although this chat has been very informative." She started to get up and Sherlock jumped to his feet.

He spoke in a hushed whisper "It would be careless of me to just let you leave without at least trying to find out your plans."

Elizabeth smiled "Sherlock, you knew my plans the moment you saw me, you do not know the details but you are aware that I am planning to lure the killer out. I hope you figured everything out that you needed to." She said sincerely as she walked away from the table and out of the small café. She was a few meters away when Sherlock called from behind her.

"Be careful" she couldn't help but smile at the comment and turned to call back.

"I promise" she looked at the detective standing outside the café with a worried expression as she turned and walked down the street.


	4. Chapter 4

**Warehouse**

Elizabeth was in a warehouse, her body suspended in the air by ropes attached to her wrists. Her feet were only inches away from the floor and bound together using rope. Her unconscious body swung slightly, her head slumped down against her chest, some blood trickling from an open wound on her head. She stirred , her mouth open to search for oxygen and her eyes darting open.

Her vision was fuzzy and her mind unclear, she blinked wildly until her vision straightened up and she could see the dirty floor which she was hung above. She lifted her head slightly to see dirty walls and broken windows, metal poles scattered as beams of support and automatically assumed she was in a warehouse. The question that rung in her mind was how did she get there and why couldn't she remember? She registered the ache in her mind from being bound and suspended in the air, and frowned, blood was trickling down her forehead from a wound. That must have been how she got to the warehouse and why she couldn't remember, someone had hit her on her head. The front of her skull which explained why her brain was fuzzy.

"Sleeping beauty has finally woken from her sleep" a voice called from across the room, her eyes darted to the source. A man hidden behind the shadow of a metal column, his featured hidden by the darkness.

"I believe the correct…correct term is slumber or deep sleep" she managed, fighting against the throbbing pain in her head.

"You're a lively one." his deep voice said as he began to walk slowly across the room, his feet tapping against the concrete floor "that's refreshing, by now the others were begging for their lives."

"I don't doubt that" she bit back "I'm different"

He came into the light and she saw the familiar face of the blonde man that she had followed yesterday. "You certainly are different" he practically purred "you were following me."

"You knew I was following you? I doubt that because you were clueless and I know you were." She said back in a monotone.

"Your right, I had no idea you were following me yesterday. But I could tell you were following me tonight, I heard you walking, the heels on the pavement." He beamed.

"Wow, you are a genius" she said mockingly, regretting it straight away. The anger seeped into his expression and he jumped towards her, grabbing her face abruptly.

"I don't think you understand the complexity of the situation" he spat at her through his teeth, his eyes narrowing slightly.

She couldn't stop herself from answering him back "complexity, that's a big word for you. I hope you know what it means." His hand tightened on her face, his nails digging into her skin. He smiled at her in a sinister way and placed his other hand on her hip. She squirmed under her hand but he gripped tightly, keeping her firmly secured in his grasp.

"You should think about what you say before you say it. That clever tongue is going to get you in trouble one day, but I'm sure we can fix that." He said softly as he pulled her face closer to his, his lips rest on hers gently before attacking them. His kiss alive with passion as he kissed her roughly, she fought against his kiss trying to pull back. He could feel her pulling back and kept her face in place with the hand that was gripping her chin. She felt his mouth open and his tongue press against her lips; she kept her lips shut firmly as he fought to open them with his tongue. The hand on her hip dug in deeper and she gasped at the touch, he pushed his tongue into her open mouth. She bit down on his tongue and he jerked back, his hand dropping from her face and hip. "You bitch" he shouted at her and she flinched at the sound. He lifted his foot and kicked her hard in the ribs.

Elizabeth cried out at the contact of his boot in her ribs, there was an audible crack and she struggled to breathe. The blood pounded in her ears and she dropped her head, she was struggling to think. She could taste him in her mouth and felt physically sick, she lifted her head and spat on the ground.

"That's not very attractive" he muttered, pulling a knife from his pocket and showing it to her "you going to behave now?"

She shook her head "if you were just going to kill me, you would have already done it. You like to play with your victims."

He smiled at her "you are smart." He closed the space between them and brought the knife to her chest, resting the cool metal on her skin.

"Thank you" she said smugly "Much smarter than you" He looked at her with a shocked expression as he pushed the blade down into her skin, she winced and bit her lip to suppress a cry of pain. He trailed the knife across her chest towards her shoulder before pulling the weapon away and smiling.

"I thought we had learnt not to insult me" he pushed her and watched as her body swung helplessly, she came forwards and he used his free arm to punch across the face. Her head fell to the side weakly and she frowned at her own pain tolerance, she had thought it was better than this.

"I wasn't insulting you" she spat, bring her head up to meet his gaze "I was stating a fact, I am smarter than you, otherwise you would have tossed my phone by now. But you didn't, you kept it with you in my coat, which you also neglected to discard."

"I don't understand" he said simply, the confusion written all over his face.

She continued "of course you don't, so I'll simplify it for you. My phone is rigged to call the last person contact within an hour of inactivity, the whole time we've been here, you've had an audience. The signal would have been tracked by now and the police on their way. My uncle is a detective for Scotland Yard, he'll be here soon and he will kill you."

He was motionless for a while, but she could see him thinking. The cogs turning in his brain as he thought of a possible escape route "Who did you call?" he managed after a while.

"The last person I contacted was Sherlock Holmes, who would have no regrets in killing you." She practically sung with glee, she had won.

Police sirens and blue lights settled outside as if on cue and he screamed at her "Let's give them a welcome then." He darted towards her and cut the ropes that were fastened above her head; she fell to the floor, her whole body aching with the contact. He pulled at her arms, forcing her to her feet and stood behind her, pressing his knife against her throat.

"Elizabeth" a hard voice shouted from around the corner, she automatically recognised it as Sherlock's and couldn't stop herself from smiling.

"Answer him" he whispered in her ear and she obeyed, not wanting to question the man with a knife to her throat.

"Sherlock, I'm here" she managed, her voice crackling as she spoke.

He turned the corner first, followed closely by Greg and John. All their faces dropped at the sight of her with a knife pressed firmly to her throat.

"Are you ok?" Lestrade managed and she nodded softly towards him. "Dylan Smith, you can let her go, no one will hurt you."

"He's not afraid of getting hurt" Sherlock snapped beside him, obviously distressed by the scene in front of him.

Dylan whispered in her ear again "tell them, it's not finished"

She repeated him "he says, that it's not finished…"

"What's not finished?" Lestrade asks quickly, his hands still as he pointed a gun at the boy with a knife.

He whispered in her ears again and she copied each word "his work…his work isn't done. It isn't finished, it needs to be finished. You have to let him…" her word's falter and a tear rolls down her cheek "you have to let him kill me…It won't end until I'm dead."

The detective is taken back by his words, and his gun hand starts to shake. John's mouth opens in protest but he stops himself, he doesn't want to put her in any more danger. Sherlock just stares at her, his blue eyes piercing into her own, he mouths 'I will help you'. She shakes her head at him, knowing whatever he could do would get her killed, he wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing he got someone killed. "the only person who can help me now is me" she whispers loud enough for Sherlock and Dylan to hear. Lestrade and Watson see her lips move but struggle to make out what he is saying.

Sherlock takes a step forwards and shouts "Elizabeth, No"

"Yes" she screams in return as she tears roll freely down her cheeks, she lifts her still bound hands to the hand that is holding the knife and yanks it away from her throat. Dylan pulls against her, trying to keep the knife at her throat. They struggled for power over the knife, his strength overpowering her own. She sucked in and twisted his arm, twisting on the spot and letting go of his hand. The binding on her feet limited her movement, so she just stood on the spot and watch as Dylan screamed at her inaudible words.

"It's over" she muttered, he bared his teeth at her as he lashed out. The knife sunk into her abdomen, she breathed in too shocked to cry out. She looked down and saw the knife protruding from her abdomen as Dylan turned it clockwise. This time she screamed, the hot pain in her abdomen overtaking her body. She fell to her knees as Dylan turned to run. She closed her eyes but heard shots and a thump as Dylan's motionless body fell to the ground.

Sherlock was the first to reach her "John" he called back as John reached her side.

"Lay her back so she doesn't fall on the knife" he said urgently, Sherlock hooked his arms around her shoulder and pulled her back onto his legs. She fell back willingly, unable to fight against him, her body was too weak.

"we need to stop the bleeding" Greg said urgently, as he knelt on her other side "call an ambulance" he shouted towards the policemen gathering around them.

John snapped back "I know" his hands were by the knife "I can't locate the bleed without taking out the knife."

"Take it out then" Lestrade shouted back at him.

Sherlock interjected, his voice stern but not a shout like theirs "If he takes the knife out she will bleed to death."

Lestrade clamps his eyes shut and lets out a small sob "I can't let her die". John instructs Lestrade on how to help, they both fumble around the wound, careful not to remove the knife.

Elizabeth's breaths heavily, the pain in her ribs forgotten beneath the burning sensation in her abdomen, her eyes dart from John to Sherlock who is hovering above her. "I need you to do something for me" she speaks in almost a whisper, her words almost choking her.

"What?" Sherlock says frantically, his blue eyes settling on hers.

"I don't want to die with the memory of Dylan on me" she managed, he looked at her blankly "I need you to touch my hip and kiss me." She didn't want to say those things to Sherlock but she would do anything not to die with the sour taste of a murder in her mouth.

"You want me to what?" he blurted out, his eyes widening and his eyebrows widening.

"Kiss me Sherlock Holmes" she snapped, they all stared at her, mouths open in shock. She was running out of will and lost her temper "he touched me. He put his hand on his hip and held my chin as he kissed me; I cannot die knowing he touched me." She looked down at Greg and John who were staring at Sherlock waiting for his next move.

She cried out loudly as a bolt of pain surged through her body. Something in Sherlock snapped as he rested his hand on her hip and pulled her chin up. He bent over her uncomfortably and placed his lips on hers. She was surprised by him but wasted no time deepening the kiss. She pushed against his lips frantically and opened her mouth slightly. He followed her lead and ran his tongue across her bottom lip. She was sure that John and Greg's attention would be on the kiss as she slid her hand down to the knife and firmly grasped the hilt.

Elizabeth pulled the knife out of her abdomen quickly, screaming against Sherlock's lips at the pain as she dropped the knife onto the floor. Sherlock pulled away, watching her lip twitch with pain and eyes open and shut slowly.

Greg screamed "Help her" as John applied pressure to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Thank you" Elizabeth whispered to Sherlock, whose hand was still rested on her chin.

"Don't close your eyes" he willed her, she wanted to listen to him but her body wasn't listening. She closed her eyed slowly, the darkness surrounding her as a tear dropped onto her burning cheeks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Frozen heat**

Elizabeth's body burned, the heat overpowering her body. She saw herself on fire, standing on fire in the middle of the warehouse. Sherlock, John and Greg were all watching her burn, watching as the flames engulfed her body. She screamed for help but there was no answer, they just stood motionless, watching. Sherlock's eyes were filled with the fire as she screamed his name over and over, he smiled wickedly at her as he turned and walked away.

She jolted from her sleep, her eyes opening only to be blinded by bright white lights. She blinked furiously until she could focus on the white ceiling; she frowned and brought her head down to look at the rest of her surroundings. The walls were a light blue, cheery, she thought to herself sarcastically, the room was scattered with machines. She was in a hospital room, a private room. She frowned.

"Elizabeth" a voice cracked from her side, she dropped her head down to look at the owner. Lestrade was perched at the end of a chair, his eyes wide and watery.

"Uncle" she managed, almost choking on the word as it left her dry throat. She coughed and reached for the water on the table by her head. Greg grabbed it before she could and placed the straw by her lips, she sucked the straw, allowing the cool liquid to hydrate her body. She let the straw drop from her mouth and turned to look at the other side of her where John and Sherlock sat anxiously, it took her a moment to register the dried blood on their clothes.

"My head" she sobbed, reaching for her head automatically and clawing at it. Greg grabbed her arms and gently pulled them down, not wanting her to cause herself any more harm. "Why does my head hurt so much?" she asked quickly, looking at John for answers.

He cleared his throat and moved to the end of the bed to read her chart "it's perfectly normal, the anaesthesia is wearing off, a mix of pain killers and the blood loss. Your mind is just a tad slower, it will be back to normal shortly." She nodded towards him and began to register the different wounds on her body. Her mind was running slowly and she couldn't process at her normal speed, she gave up and huffed.

"Is this what it's like all the time for you?" she asked spitefully.

John and Greg looked at each other confused, Sherlock, who was still sat in the chair answered slowly "It is" he stood up and walked towards her bed side. She smiled and mouthed 'thanks' towards him, happy with his honesty.

"I don't know how you process anything properly at this speed, it is impossible" she snapped.

Sherlock let out a small laugh as he steepled his hands under his chin and watched her weak body. She smiled at her Uncle "I don't suppose you'd leave me alone if I said I felt like death."

He shook his head "not this time, we all deserve an explanation." He gestured to John and Sherlock who were watching her.

"Fine" she huffed, pushing herself up into a sitting position and fighting against the burning pain in her side. "I am only going to say this once, so you better listen. The first part of the night is a blur" Greg opened his mouth to say something but she glared at him, he closed his mouth quickly. He must have been slightly amused at her admittance of not remembering everything, like she knew he would be "I just woke up in the warehouse, I was tied up, my wrists and ankles bound and suspended off the ground. He made a reference to sleeping beauty when he saw I was awake and I corrected him. I then insulted his intelligence some more, he got angry and grabbed my chin. We continued our delightful conversation as he grabbed my hip and held me in place while he…" she pauses, her cheeks burning red in embarrassment "he kissed me. I bite his tongue and he got very angry and persisted to kick me in the ribs which winded me. I insulted him again and then he cut me with the knife, across here" she gestured to her chest, across her collar bone, which was covered by a hospital gown "I then simply told him how stupid he was for not dumping my phone, which was programmed to call the last person contacted, I expected it to be you Uncle, but I almost forgot that I was texting Sherlock earlier." Lestrade and Watson turned to him with questioning looks on their faces, Sherlock shook his head, gesturing that he would explain later, she continued "he then took me as his hostage, as your witnessed and I am sure you are all aware of the rest."

Lestrade was the first to speak "so he didn't…he didn't…" he stumbled over his words and Sherlock sighed.

Elizabeth finished the statement for him in a monotone "rape me? No, he didn't get the chance to. I have you to thank for that." Lestrade let out a long breath of relief and stood up.

"I'm just going to inform the station" he smiled at her before leaving; John stood up quickly and followed him.

"I'll talk to the doctors" he said quickly as he ducked out of the door, allowing it to close after him.

Elizabeth allowed her face to drop and grimaced at the pain from her abdomen, "you don't have to put on a brave face for them" Sherlock's stern voiced reached her and she turned to him. His hands were still steepled under his chin and he was watching her closely "you were kidnapped, beaten and stabbed, not to mention you pulled the knife out. A strong face doesn't change any of that, you have no need to reassure them."

"I guess I'm thoughtful like that" she muttered mockingly, pain surged through her body again, her abdomen burning. She winced at the pain, Sherlock instinctively bound to her side.

"Do you want me to get a nurse?" He asked, worry clear in his voice.

"No" she hissed through her teeth "I would rather talk, keep my mind off the pain."

He forced a smile "What do you want to talk about?" he said weakly, trying to stimulate the conversation to distract her from the pain.

"I'm sure that you would like talk about earlier" she said quickly and watched how his face shifted into embarrassment. "I shouldn't have asked you to do that, it was unfair on you. I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that."

"Why did you?" he asked quickly.

"I've never had the chance or felt the need for physical contact and I didn't know how to react when he kissed me, my mind was racing and I felt physically sick. I could taste him in my mouth and feel his hand on my hip. I just had to try and erase it, I'm sorry." She dipped her head, ashamed of her actions.

Sherlock left it a moment before speaking softly "It was difficult to process with everything that went, even for me. Your explanation lacks scientific sense but is coherent."

She stifled a laugh "it lacks sense to me to Sherlock. He tasted disgusting though and it lingered in my mouth."

Sherlock's face remained stern as he stimulated the conversation further by questioning her, mostly out of his own curiosity. "What did he taste like?" he could have hit himself for asking such a personal question but she answered immediately.

"It was my first kiss so I had nothing previous to compare it to but to describe it in a few words…" she paused thinking of the most logical words to sum up the burning taste he left in her mouth "acidic…bitter..." she struggled to think "…I guess I would just say violent, although that doesn't have a specific taste."

"And when you kissed me?" Sherlock asked slowly, the words slipping off his tongue harshly as if he was embarrassed by saying them.

Elizabeth fought off the urge to smile and instead kept a neutral expression as she answered his question "From what I can remember" she started, closing her eyes and dropping her head back slightly to visualise the moment. She looked at her memory in her own person, gathering all the information she processed and filtering through it (she wouldn't have had to time to do it when it actually happened, due to the circumstances) "when I kissed you, the taste was faint and I barely registered it but distinctively I remember the mint freshness and undertones of nicotine. Like smoke but you weren't smoky, you haven't smoked recently but the nicotine is one your breath, perhaps from a chewing gum or something." She opened her eyes to look at the consulting detective, who was turned towards the door, his face stern and listening "it was reassuring."

Sherlock's face remained the same as he turned back to look at Elizabeth, he desperately needed to change the topic but was torn by his need for information "And was it your intention from the start to use me as a distraction while you removed the knife?" He lifted an eyebrow as he finished and she blushed, her cheeks turning pink.

She saw no point lying about it and blurted out "Initially no, the main idea was to cover the vile taste in my mouth and his presence on my skin, but I saw the opportunity and took it. I severely doubt any of you would have done it, so I did what I had to."

"Without regard for your own life?" he asked quickly, he stood awkwardly at the side of the bed, his hands in his pockets. She tapped on the side of the bed and shifted slightly to allow more room. The pain in her side sparked again but she bit down on the pain and watched as he perched himself carefully on the side of the bed. His weight caused the tough mattress to bow slightly and her body to slide closer to his.

His hand rested on the mattress in front of him and the other on his leg, for a brief moment she wanted to rest her hand on top of his. She pushed the thought away immediately and focused on the man in front of her, who wanted so many answers, that she felt obliged to answer. She spoke softly, not wanting to overexert herself. "What's one life when looking at the bigger picture?" she asked rhetorically, Sherlock raised an eyebrow slightly, her riddle ringing in his ears. "Dylan Smith raped twelve people, five of which he murdered. I started investigating the case after he murdered his first victim, Bianca Stack and witnessed how over the next four murders he progressed, it was clear that he enjoyed the violence he inflicted on these women. I saw him at two of the crime scenes and followed him, I had no name only the face and I couldn't lose him. However, yesterday he managed to…" she paused briefly and looked at Sherlock, whose strong gaze was glued to her own, she finished "….escape me and I had no way of finding him, except for him MO, I knew what he liked, so catering to that seemed the simplest way of finding him again." She gulped loudly before continuing in a monotone, as to not show her emotions "when I woke up there, sure I was scared but I knew what I was getting myself into, the other girls didn't. When he took me as hostage I knew there was no way to get out of the situation without getting injured. I could have been shot by Greg, had my throat cut by Dylan. I knew that either way I had to die, it was the only way. It seemed like a little price to pay for other lives, I only wish I could have done it sooner."

They sat in silence, the weight of her words sitting on both of their minds, Sherlock fidgeted slightly causing the mattress to move. He cleared his throat before asking "Why didn't you let me help you?" his voice jolted as if her was sad by the words or sad that she had acted alone and ended up in a hospital bed.

She breathed out "I had a knife to my throat Sherlock," he voice cracked slightly but she continued "there was no way you could of got me out of that situation without me being killed or seriously maimed. I didn't want you to be the cause of that, you wouldn't have be able to deal with the aftermath. What if I died Sherlock, could you really have my life weighing on your mind? I did what I did to stop people from getting hurt." She sounded harsher that she had intended, she dropped her head slightly and looked at her hands which were grasping each other in her lap. It was hard not to notice the marks around her wrists from where she had been bound, bruises had begun to form and the skin had pulled back in areas causing raw marks.

The marks on her wrists seemed small, she could cover them up easily with a long sleeve t-shirt of bracelets. She dreaded to think what the rest of her body looked like after being kidnapped, beaten up, dropped on the floor and stabbed. She looked up at Sherlock and met his hot gaze, she licked her lips nervously "How do I look Sherlock?" she asked quickly, specifically thinking about the harm to her face.

Sherlock's body tensed, the question obviously making him feel awkward, she managed a smile and clarified her question "I know that you will answer honestly, I just want to know the damage done."

He hesitated before blurting out in a softer tone "You have an abrasion on the left front of your skull" he lifted his hand as to touch the wound and looked at her questioningly , she nodded to him acceptably and he reached forward, resting his hand just above the skin. She took in a breath sharply as her skin tingled slightly beneath his hands, at moments his fingers brushed gently across the skin "it's a cut from being hit on the head with something heavy, the cut itself isn't very deep and is secured with butterfly stitches. There are some bruises across circling the wound" his fingers mapped out the bruises on her skin, soft enough for there to be no pain. He trailed a finger down her temple towards her cheek bone "slight bruising" he trailed three fingers across her cheekbone, he pressed with slight pressure on a particular spot at the top of her cheek "indentation bruising, darker than the rest." He left unspoken 'from a tight grip' and instead breathed loudly, and brought his hands down towards her chin, he rested his fingers on it ever so slightly "light bruising from the cheek to the chin, more prominent on the chin, darker shades which continues further onto the other cheek and is darker. Three darker areas" he touched three different area's on her right cheek gently "the bruising will lighten quickly." He finished.

She managed a small smile, his hand still rested on her face. "Not too bad then" she joked weakly and Sherlock responded with a small laugh, his body slightly jerking the bed. She continued "If that's what my face looks like, I dread to think what the rest of me looks like." She looked at the detective, hers eyes fixated on his.

The sound of someone clearing their throat in the corner of the room startled them, pulling their gazes from one another as they both shot a look towards the door, where John and Greg were standing. Elizabeth blushed wildly, dropping her head down to look at her lap, Sherlock turned back towards her, dropping his hand quickly from her face and standing to face them.

Greg shot a questioning look at Sherlock as he moved back towards the chair he had been sitting in, he placed his hand on the mattress besides her, knowing not to touch her. "I've been called in on a case" he said annoyed, he rolled his eyes "but I want you to come and stay with me."

She cut him off abruptly "I wouldn't want to intrude" she lied, she had no intention of staying with Greg, she was not his problem and he didn't have to deal with her when she was in her bored states.

"It's no intrusion" he muttered, looking at her. "you can have my room and I'll sleep on the sofa."

She looked at him questioningly "but you're not living at home any more, you're living with your boyfriend and he has guest rooms."

He sighed "how did you figure that out?"

She stifled a laugh "your aftershave is muskier than usual, in between the three months that we saw each other, you started seeing someone and it moved fast because you're living with him. He has a listed property; something built in the 18th century and furnished with antiques. That antique smell is the reason for your muskiness, that isn't quite covered by your after shave. Also your clothes seem neater, you used to have the odd crease of ruffle but there are no creases to be found recently. Not to mention the fact that your hair is neater, pushed to one side and that you've switched razors. The old brand left odd hairs and didn't cut as close, this new brand is more traditional and cuts smoothly.

John let out a small laugh of amusement and Sherlock stood tall, looking at Greg and Elizabeth as they conversed. He had of course noticed these things but not wanted to say anything sooner, Greg was his friend and John had pushed him to stop being as annoying.

"You never cease to amaze me" he said simply, leaning back in the chair with a small grin on his face "the offer still stands"

She shook her head "I would never forgive myself if those were the circumstances I met your partner under, I will be quite fine where I am."

"Where are you then?" John asked quickly, his sweet face lighting up slightly.

"Now in a hospital bed" she said sarcastically "I live in a flat with a friend, a temporary arrangement that suits us both quite well."

"Will he be able to look after you while you're recovering?" John pushed.

"Yes" she lied rather unconvincingly.

John shot Greg a questioning look and Sherlock sighed loudly. They all turned to the visually annoyed Sherlock, who turned to them "You can stay with us."

John almost choked as he heard the words "What?"

He sent John a questioning look "She can stay with us, didn't you hear me."

John stood, confused "No I heard you"

"Then what's the problem?" Sherlock snapped, looking at John with an annoyed expression.

John smiled at Elizabeth "No, problem, none at all." He managed as Elizabeth returned his smile.


	6. Chapter 6

**221B **

Elizabeth sighed, wishing she'd put up a better fight when Sherlock insisted that she stay with them. She respectively declined the offer and Greg also insisted that she return home with him. All Sherlock had to do then to convince him that it was a good idea was point out that John was an army doctor and would be able to watch over her while she recovered. Greg had to agree that it would be the best place for her to be.

She had been discharged from the hospital later on that day, with strict instruction to rest and not over exert herself. Greg took her over in his car, after buying her a selection of clothes for the duration of her stay (as she refused to let him go to her apartment). They arrived at the flat and she was shown around quickly before being set down in Sherlock's room with the instructions to get some sleep. She wanted to disagree but her body urged her to sleep and recuperate, so she closed her eyes and welcomed sleep.

She woke with a start, the room was lit by a small lamp on the chest across the room. Her body ached and she winced as she stretched out. The clothes she had fallen asleep in, jeans and a shirt, were pressed tightly to her body and crumpled uncomfortably. She sighed and pushed herself up to get dressed; she peeled off the shirt and kicked off the jeans. She breathed heavily, sitting in a plain black bra and green striped knickers. Her bag was sat on the chair by a mirror and she stood up to get out something more sleep appropriate. She used her arms to push her body off the bed and stood, unsteady for a moment, the air rushing around her head causing her to stumble slightly. Elizabeth fought against the falling sensation and kept her body up, she dragged her feet across the floor on the way to her bag and mirror, to avoid falling over.

The duffle bag was neatly packed and she quickly rifled through to find a long jersey and placed it on the chest of draws to her right. She took a breath in and pulled her shoulders back to stand up straight in front of the mirror. She practically gasped at the sight of her body in the little light. There were clear bruises across her front, covering the main portion of her torso, from the kick she received to the ribs. A long red cut ran from the middle of her chest, just beneath her collar bone, to her shoulder. A plaster covered the wound on her abdomen and she was intrigued to see the condition it was in, however, she resisted, knowing she would be scolded by John if she uncovered the wound. She stretched out, the stitches under the plaster pulling painfully; she grimaced and dropped onto her knees quickly. "Ouch" she muttered between breaths as she sat leaning on her knees, her hand clasped firmly on her side. She had overdone it, just walking and stretching had caused her pain, she dreaded to think about how long it would take her to recover fully. She wouldn't be able to go about her usual activities like running around the streets of London or jumping out of her window, she liked to keep herself mobile and fit ready for anything.

The sound of someone approaching pulled her from her thought; she frowned and tried to pull herself up. Her body failed to respond, she instead fell backwards onto her elbows and cried out at the contact of her body on the hardwood floor. The door creaked open, she turned and saw Sherlock, his body pushed against the doorway, his hair a curly messy mop on top of his head.

"What are you doing on the floor?" he said slightly amused, trying not to laugh.

She sent him a annoyed look and turned back to the mirror. She noticed her unusual position, knees on the floor, supporting her body via her hands, in what a teenager might refer to as a crab like position. She laughed, knowing that she looked ridiculous. She looked back at the detective, who was now leaning in a relaxed position on the door frame, laughing at her. "Stop laughing at me and please help me."

Sherlock looked slightly shocked "Asking for help, that doesn't seem like a usual thing for you."

She looked down hopelessly "You know that it isn't" she turned back and smiled at him "pot calling kettle black" she muttered beneath her breath, loud enough for Sherlock to hear. He grinned as he walked into the room, towards her body that was sprawled awkwardly. He clasped his hands around her upper arms and pulled her quickly to her feet, she practically jumped up, landing on her tip toes. She began to tumble forward as she lost her balance and fell towards her own reflection. Sherlock's arms snaked around her chest and shoulders, stopping her from falling onto her own reflection. He pulled her back slightly, her feet rested flat on the ground. "Thank you" she whispered ignoring the pain from her abdomen and the ache across her body.

"You're welcome" he whispered, his words touching the back of his neck. He slowly released her, his arms sinking back to his sides. "What were you doing?" he looked down at her reflection; she followed his gaze and realised that she was standing in her underwear. Pink spread across her cheeks, causing them to glow.

"I was just getting dressed and checking the damage" she gestured towards her body, the clustered bruising and hospital plaster covering up her stitches. "I overexerted myself obviously" she said overdramatically, pouting at her reflection.

"Do you need help?" Sherlock asked, his voice a mixture of amusement and mocking, she noted his entertained facial expression.

"No" she grumbled, picking the jersey up from the dresser and pulling it over her head. She grimaced at the pain in her side as the stitched stretched again. Sherlock, who was still close behind her, pulled the jersey down so she didn't exert herself more than she needed to.

Elizabeth smiled at her reflection as the white jersey fell over her body. She turned around quickly, her face hitting Sherlock's chest. She laughed at the contact and pushed herself back slightly. Sherlock's hand touched her chin and pulled her face up to meet his gaze. She stopped laughing at the contact and let him move her face, she looked blankly at him.

His eyes were fixed on hers and his face neutral and slightly scared. Elizabeth parted her mouth slightly, ready to say something but decided against it, and clamped her mouth shut again. Sherlock's hand was rested on her chin gently, his thumb moving in circles on her cheek. She couldn't help but smile at the contact, it was a new sensation that she didn't completely understand yet but she wanted to.

"Sherlock" a voice calling out from further in the flat disrupted them, John had obviously grown impatient waiting for Sherlock, who went simply to see if Elizabeth was alright.

Elizabeth looked down, blushing as Sherlock's hand fell to his side and he took a step backwards.

"Is everything ok?" John called again.

Sherlock looked towards the door "Yes" he took a step towards the door and gestured for her to follow. Not wanting to disappoint him she followed him out of the room. They walked into the living room, John looked up from his laptop, his eyes widening at the sight of Elizabeth. He shut the laptop rather abruptly and put it on the floor, he stood up.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her, Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance and sat down on the sofa, John ignored him and focused on Elizabeth.

"Ok I guess, considering everything" John gestured for her to sit on one of the armchairs; she smiled but chose the seat on the sofa, next to Sherlock instead. John seemed surprised by her choice of seating but quickly dismissed it and stood above her. Sherlock repositioned himself as she sat down, turning his body slightly towards her, which went unnoticed by John.

"And the pain?" John asked, looking down at the blonde haired girl as she leant back in the chair. He remembers the day they first met when her hair was naturally black.

"Barely noticeably" she smiled weakly, hoping it would be enough to convince him "Have you heard from Greg?"

John nodded "he called a few hours ago to check you were ok, said he had been pretty busy at work but would stop by when he got the chance." He stood awkwardly "I was about to make dinner."

She frowned and looked down at her feet "I'm not hungry, thank you."

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked, his voice reminiscent of a parents.

"What day is it today?"

"Thursday" John answered quickly, his eyes widening slightly.

She took a moment to think about it "I distinctly remember a meal on Monday, some biscuits on Tuesday" she shrugged unsure if she had eaten in the last two days.

"When was the last time you ate three meals?" Jon's concern was painted across his face.

Elizabeth was unsure if she should tell the truth or lie, she decided the truth would be a lot easier "a few months, I guess" Sherlock took in a large breath besides her, obviously aware of how John would react to that.

"What is it with people and not eating?" he asked rhetorically, throwing his arms in the air "you're as bad as Sherlock." He said simply, moving towards the kitchen.

Sherlock huffed "that is hardly fair John" he moaned like a child "Eating is boring, it slows me down."

John swore in the kitchen and Elizabeth laughed and called out to him "he's right you know. Food only slows the body down, slows the brain down. Eating isn't important, it's only transport."

She turned to look at Sherlock, who was staring at her slightly amazed. John poked his head around the corner "And how would your mind have worked if your transport ceased to exist?"

Elizabeth sighed, knowing he was right "I eat enough to keep me alive and I keep my body in shape, that's enough for me. The stabbing and beating up however you can blame on a mad man, which is not an everyday occurrence for me." She smiled widely at John, who rolled his eyes and walked back into the kitchen.

Sherlock chuckled at her statement and she joined in laughing. John sighed in the kitchen, they really were as bad as each other. He knew their minds worked in similar ways and that they had the same lifestyles: dangerous, fast paced, neglect for their own health and personal safety and became bored easily. He sighed, he hated to admit it but there was something between Sherlock and Elizabeth, he doubted that either of them knew about it yet, but he could see it every time they were together. The way they looked at each other and spoke to each other, how she had asked him to kiss her when she lay bleeding out and how he touched her face in the hospital. He was sure that they were slowly falling in love with each other, the saddest thing that neither of them seemed to understand any of it. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and typed out a message.

**I know that you already know everything about Greg's niece but is there something that you may have missed? – JW**

The reply came instantly, he was happy with Mycroft's fast replies.

**I assure you John I have missed nothing –MH**

**Are you sure? –JW **

**Yes, what has sparked your concern with this woman? – MH**

**Nothing – JW**

John rolled his eyes, he had come over too strong via the message and regretted it, Mycroft would not stop until he figured it out.

**Do you like this girl? – MH**

John practically gasped, he typed out a reply quickly.

**No, Mycroft. She just seems to have an effect on Sherlock, that's all. – JW**

**What kind of effect? –MH**

**Nothing bad, just different. She just seems to make him…human –JW**

**Human? In what ways? –MH**

**I'm sure you already know but when she was stabbed, she asked Sherlock to kiss her and he did. –JW**

**Sherlock kissed her? –MH**

**Yes –JW **

Mycroft seemed surprised, John regretted saying anything but he assumed Mycroft would have already known.

**I'll look again and see if I can find anything new, she doesn't seem to be a danger towards Sherly. –MH**

**I don't necessarily think she is a danger, but there is something between them. – JW**

**I see, I will not neglect this information John. –MH**

John slid the phone back into his pocket and focused on cooking dinner, the two of them needed feeding and were not going to do it for themselves.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sleep**

John had practically forced Sherlock and Elizabeth to eat, they both got in a huff but ate anyway. After dinner, John had cleared the plates away while the others watched some tele. They both commented on the CSI reruns, figuring out who the killer was within minutes and shouting at the tele. After John was finished he settled in the arm chair to relax.

Within ten minutes Elizabeth had fallen asleep, her body pressed awkwardly against the side of the sofa. She winced in her sleep; her wound pressing hard against the leather sofa, John frowned and suggested moving her into the bedroom. Sherlock glared at him, moving her would definitely wake her up and she need to rest. He resulted to pull her body off the arm of the chair and onto his own. She leaned into his body immediately, her arm snaking around his waist, he smiled at the contact but suppressed it quickly, knowing John would read into it too much. After half an hour, Sherlock had fallen asleep also; his body perched up against the sofa in a sitting position. John sighed at the sight of them, slightly amused. He took a picture on his phone and sent it to Mycroft captioned **see what I mean?** He forwarded the same picture to Greg but captioned it differently, with a sarcastic tone **the genius's sleep** he laughed as he hit send and put the phone back in his pocket. He grabbed a blanket and threw it across the pair. He walked up to his room, laughing to himself, Sherlock had fallen asleep. Sherlock had fallen asleep with a woman.

Elizabeth stirred; her body was lent against something hot. The heat was reassuring and the position comfortable as the scar was facing the air and not pushed against anything. She opened her eyes, the room was dark but she could see that she was in the living room on the sofa. She assumed that she had fallen asleep whilst watching tele and yawned loudly. She looked up to see Sherlock sleeping soundly above her, in a sitting position with his head bowed down. He must have been very uncomfortable; she pulled her arm from around his body and pushed herself up gently, trying not to wake the sleeping genius. He shifted besides her and let out a small moan, his folded legs stretching across the sofa. She smirked at the sight as she straightened up, her stitches pulled again and she winced loudly.

"Shit" she muttered, she could feel the surgical string rip into her skin and cried out loudly.

Sherlock moved on the sofa and spoke groggily "Are you ok?"

"Yes" she lied "just pulled my stitches a little" she avoided looking at the detective and instead, looked forward.

They both dodged talking about how they were sleeping together on the sofa and after a few moments of silence, Sherlock cleared his throat and muttered "you should get some rest" she nodded and turned to him, watching as he placed his hand behind his head.

"Are you going to be ok on the sofa?" she asked, happy that the darkness would cover the concern that was written across her face.

"Yes" he answered quickly and she rolled her eyes at him lie.

"You don't have to lie to me Sherlock, I can see already that sleeping on the sofa has caused you pain. The upright position and tough leather sofa will only make your back worse. You can have the bed."

Sherlock interjected questioningly "and make you sleep on the sofa?"

She let out a small laugh "I thought we could share the bed" she noticed that his body tensed slightly, he was visually uncomfortable "We were just sharing the sofa, the beds bigger it will make no difference. Plus, we both need some sleep."

"Fine" he murmured, jumping off the sofa and standing next to her. The blanket fell to the ground and he ignored it. She walked towards the bedroom, Sherlock close behind her and turned on a small lamp by the bed. She stood by the side of the bed and smiled at Sherlock, who loomed in the doorway.

"I don't bite Sherlock" she stated simply "unless you want me to" she winked at him, flirtatiously. He looked slightly shocked but laughed weakly. He took a step into the room, closing the door behind him and walked around to the other side of the bed.

She sat herself down on the bed carefully, resting her hand on the plaster on her wound and smiling to hide the pain. Elizabeth swung her legs into the bed slowly and pulled the cover over them, she put her head on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. Sherlock pulled down the covers on his side and was about to climb into the bed when Elizabeth talked, making him halt "Are you going to sleep in your clothes?" she asked questioningly, raising her eyebrow.

"I was going to" he said, pronouncing each word separately.

She let out a small laugh "that wouldn't be very comfortable, don't let me stop you from sleeping how you normally would."

He answered sarcastically "So if I slept in the nude?"

"That would make two of us" she answered just as sarcastically as him and smiled "get dressed Sherlock, I'll close my eyes" she made an over dramatic gesture and put her hands on her eyes. She thought about peaking but instead kept her hands firmly over her eyes while the consulting detective got into his pyjamas. He slipped under the covers beside her and exhaled sharply. "Goodnight" she whispered, closing her eyes and waited for sleep to take her.

Sherlock responded "Goodnight Elizabeth" as she fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Bitterness**

**I apologise, this is a very short chapter.**

John Watson opened his eyes; he had a dreamless night, surprisingly and was ready for the day ahead. He sat up and reached for the phone that was charging on the bedside table. He looked to see five unread messages and was eager to read them.

**They do seem rather close, this is worrying –MH **

**Are they still there now? –MH**

**Do you think this is serious? – MH**

The other two messages were from Greg, he looked through them quickly before replying to Mycroft.

**They're both asleep, how is that even possible? –GL**

**Should I be reading into this, John? –GL**

John tapped out a quick response to Greg.

**I don't know, they are both exhausted and I don't think there is any need Greg. –JW **

John pushed himself out of bed, ready to get onto his next task, checking on Sherlock and Elizabeth for Mycroft. He pulled on a cardigan and made his way down the stairs. The lounge was empty, the sofa and blanket abandoned. He sighed and moved towards Sherlock's bedroom, expecting to find a sleeping Elizabeth, he knew Sherlock could be anywhere at this time of the morning.

He opened the door as slowly as possible and poked his head through the gap. He almost gasped at the sight in front of him. Sherlock was laid in bed in his normal manner, diagonally his head on the pillow and legs crossing onto Elizabeth's side of the bed. His lips were parted slightly and his head faced towards Elizabeth, who was breathing lightly. Elizabeth was pushed against his body her head rested against his chest, her shoulder pushed into his armpit. He could see from the creases in the duvet that her legs were tangled in Sherlock's. Her arms were draped across his body and he noticed that one of Sherlock's arms was hooked under her body and rested on her hip.

John took a step back into the hallway and typed frantically to Mycroft.

**They are both asleep…in his bed. –JW**

John sent a second message.

**Would you class that as serious? –JW**

The reply was almost instant.

**In his bed? This seems more serious then I would have liked. –MH**

**Send me a picture – MH**

John frowned at the screen, he knew sending a picture last night was a mistake.

**No, I can't – JW**

**Why not? I would like to see the extent of the situation, how am I meant to understand fully if I cannot see them? –MH**

**Fine, but you owe me. –JW**

John held his breath; he poked his head back round the door and looked at the scene again. He lifted the phone up and took a picture. His phone snapped loudly and he ducked out of the room and walked quickly into the lounge. He sent the picture quickly, avoiding adding a caption this time.

Mycroft replied a few minutes after receiving the photo, he had obviously looked at it in quite a lot of detail before replying.

**Interesting, I'll be in contact John – MH**

He sighed and walked into the kitchen to make some breakfast, he never thought he would see Sherlock like this with a girl. Of course there had been 'The woman' but they had never had any sexual relationship, to his knowledge but she did unnerve him greatly. Elizabeth was different though, intellectually she matched Sherlock and she was similar to him in many ways. She also had this thing about physical contact, she couldn't tolerate people touching her, but for some reason she had allowed Sherlock to touch her. Most of the time it was brief but it was still touching, she wouldn't even shake John's hand. He thought bitterly to himself as he sat down at the table, he needed to go out and find some girl to sleep with, that would help him get over this girl. That would help him get over Elizabeth.


	9. Chapter 9

**Back to Black**

Elizabeth groaned, she was warm and comfortable. Except for the pain in her ribs and the slight pulling from her stitches, she sighed heavily, her eyes still closed. She was fully aware that she was not leaning on a pillow, it was too firm and moved slightly beneath her. Her eyes flicked open, taking a moment to focus before she saw laying on Sherlock, using his chest as a pillow. She smiled burying her head into his top, this made the detective stir slightly. The arm that was hooked around her waist pulled her closer to him and her body pressed against his.

A phone on the bedside table started to vibrate, causing Sherlock to shift, his body stretching out and a moan escaping his lips. Elizabeth leaned across the detective and pulled the phone to her ear.

"Sherlock's phone" she said quickly.

The voice on the other end spoke dryly "Miss Wilde I presume" the voice was posh and well spoken, quite like Sherlock.

"Yes" she snapped, not wanting to ask how he knew.

"Is there a particular reason that you are answering Sherlock's phone?" She struggled to make out any emotions across the line, the phone often muffled emotions which she hated.

"He's asleep and I didn't want the ringing to wake him" she glanced down at the detective who was rubbing his eyes groggily, still half asleep. Too late "can I ask whose calling?"

"You can ask my dear but it doesn't mean I will tell you" she noted his shadiness and obvious deduction skills, that much was clear.

"You're a relative, I would guess brother. Older" she pursed her lips. Sherlock was awake now and looking at her as she spoke into his blackberry.

"Very good Miss Wilde, I would ask how you figured it out. But none of us really have time for that, can I talk to Sherlock?" she looked at Sherlock and mouthed 'brother' he frowned and shook his head.

"He's still asleep" she lied

"No he's not" His brother's voice said in a bored tone.

"Well, he's preoccupied at the moment" she said quickly, hoping he brought it this time.

"Doing what?"

She laughed slightly "Do you really want to know?" she asked rhetorically before continuing "it's the morning, we are in bed together, what do you think we're doing?"

Sherlock stifled a laugh besides her as his brother let out a small laugh of amusement mixed with annoyance. "With your wound, I doubt that very much" he left something unspoken and she could tell.

She blurted out quickly "just because you doubt something doesn't make it any less true. Goodbye Mr Holmes" she hung up the phone and lent across Sherlock to put the phone back on the table.

She smiled at Sherlock, who returned her smile with a wide grin. "What are your plans for the day?" he asked mockingly making her giggle.

She answered just as mockingly "I was thinking about a rooftop chase across London, a boxing class and maybe a trip to the closest club…but then I realised, that I am under house arrest." She buried her face in the pillow as Sherlock sat up and stared at her.

"Why are you staring at me?" she asked, her sound muffled by the pillow. She would have expected anyone else to ask how she knew but not Sherlock, he would understand.

"You hair is very distracting" he articulated, she lifted her head up and shot him a questioning look. "the colour"

She nodded and pulled at a messy strand "I had almost forgot, if you get me some hair dye then I will dye it back to black."

He nodded and shouted into the apartment "John, we need some black hair dye."

"What?" John called from further in the flat, obviously confused.

"Black hair dye, we need some. Miss Wilde would care to dye her hair back to its original colour." Sherlock explained annoyingly, his face screw up slightly.

Elizabeth pushed back the covers and rolled out of the bed, as to avoid over stretching her stitches and the pain building up in her side. She landed on her feet gracefully and walked to the bathroom, picking up a pair of jeans as she moved. She quickly brushed her teeth, washed her face gently and pulled on the jeans. She emerged from the room and saw that Sherlock was no longer in bed. She pulled the scraggly blonde hair away from her face and secured it in a messy bun.

She had noticed while washing her face that the bruising had lightened slightly and the cut on her head was healing. She smiled as she walked into the lounge, the smell of cooked breakfast streaming from the kitchen. She rounded the corner into the kitchen, Sherlock was sat focused on the newspaper in front of him while John was standing by the cooker, making breakfast.

"Morning" she muttered, slipping into the chair adjacent to Sherlock and grinning.

"Good morning, how are you feeling?" John asked, his face still focused on what he was cooking.

"Good" she lied, there was no reason to tell John the amount of pain she was in, he would only worry.

"And the pain?" He continued, glancing over his shoulder briefly.

"Minimal" she lied again, Sherlock glanced over the paper and looked at her, with a knowing look on his face. She blushed and looked down at the table. John nodded, naively believing her lies.

"I was wondering …" she started, speaking softly "if I could go out today, just for a walk."

John placed a plate in front of her and frowned "your meant to be resting, you wouldn't want to push your body to far." He placed a plate in front of Sherlock and one at a spare seat which he settled on. She looked down at the plate, he had cooked: sausages, bacon, fried bread, mushrooms and beans.

She took a bite from the bacon and continued "I just need to exercise" John shot her a look as if to say 'really?' and she frowned "my mind. I need to exercise my mind, if I am stuck in here all day I will go crazy."

Sherlock folded the paper and placed it on the table, he shot her a sympathetic look, knowing how easily boredom could consume someone and thinking of the smiley face he had shot into the wall. John remembered the also and spoke quickly "Fine, it might actually do you some good to get some fresh air but you shouldn't go alone."

"Ok" she answered almost too quickly "I'll stop by a salon and get my hair dyed as well, saves you from picking some up." John smiled, happy at her thoughtful gesture and continued to eat.

John's phone buzzed and he picked it up from the table surface to read the message.

**John, get Sherlock to answer his phone – MH**

He tapped out a quick response.

**Ok –JW**

"Mycroft wants you to answer your phone" John directed at Sherlock who was eating small bites of his breakfast, he swallowed and glared at John.

"If it was important he would come himself instead of calling, it's not worth my time." He huffed,.

Elizabeth smiled to herself "he's obviously concerned about you, or more specifically about your relationship with me."

John looked down trying to avoid both their gazes, he knew this was all his thought but he also knew Mycroft, he would have found out eventually. "Relationship?" he asked quickly.

Elizabeth smiled and continued "He has obviously looked into me and my past, he knows a lot about me that must be why he is concerned. He must think I am a bad influence…"

Sherlock interjected "Because to influence a person is to give him one's own soul. He does not think his natural thoughts…"

Elizabeth interrupted "or burn with his natural passions. His virtues are not real to him. His sins, if there are such things as sins, are borrowed. He becomes an echo of some one else's music, an actor of a part that has not been written for him. The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly - that is what each of us is here for. People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to oneself. Of course they are charitable. They feed the hungry, and clothe the beggar. But their own souls starve, and are naked. Courage has gone out of our race. Perhaps we never really had it. The terror of society, which is the basis of morals, the terror of God, which is the secret of religion - "

Sherlock cleared his throat "these are the two things that govern us." He pulled his eyes from the woman adjacent to him and looked at John who looked slightly confused "Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray" he said to help john understand, knowing he wouldn't recognise the quote himself.

"Right" John muttered beneath his breath "you're perfect for each other"

"What?" Sherlock snapped "speak up John"

John was visually agitated by this "nothing" he said unconvincingly, he stood up and turned away from the pair "I just said that you too are obviously perfect for each other."

They both let out a small laugh, Sherlock asked "What makes you think that?" He was obviously intrigued by John's exclamation.

He sighed before answering "Your minds work in the same way, you observe everything and deduce people, without any concern to their feelings. In the time I have known Sherlock I have barely seen him show emotion and I have no doubt that you are the same. You similarly neglect your health, hardly ever eating because it 'slows your minds down'. You both have this weird thing against physical contact, Elizabeth more so that you" he gestured towards Sherlock "you even refuse to shake hands, yet you've let Sherlock touch you after knowing him for a mere 24 hours. And to top it all off you have no thought for your own personal safety, you would get yourself killed just to stop yourself from being bored. You make the perfect couple but refuse to admit it because you're too stubborn." John regretted speaking the moment the words left his mouth. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

Elizabeth shook her head and muttered "it is quite alright John, there is truth in your words" she bit back the urge to cry, as the tears began to form in the corners of her eyes "I am truly sorry for any pain that I may have caused you." She sprung to her feet and darted out of the room, she picked up her phone and purse from Sherlock's room and rushed down the stairs and out onto the streets.

She received some funny looks from people on the street as she rushed around without any shoes on. She appeared on a busy high street and walked into a trendy looking shop. She stopped deducing and instead just thought like a normal person, browsing through the clothes. She picked up a pair of brown boots and some thick socks as well as a matching brown jacket. After she had paid for them she put the items on and walked towards a hair salon, where she spent half an hour getting her hair back to black. She forced a smile at her reflection and dodged the hairdresser's questions about her facial injuries.


	10. Chapter 10

**Mycroft Holmes**

Elizabeth emerged from the shop, slightly happier then when she had entered. She felt a lot better with her natural hair colour back but she was still miserable and couldn't help but wonder why John had been in such distress earlier. What had made him say those awful things? She and Sherlock were similar, she would be the first to admit it but that didn't mean that they were in a relationship or even had feelings for each other. Even if she did have feelings for Sherlock Holmes, that didn't mean that she would know how to act about them or that he would even feel the same way.

The phone in her pocket had been buzzing practically non-stop, various texts and phone calls, most likely from John and Lestrade, she doubted that Sherlock would be bothered by her absence. Her phone buzzed again and she swore under her breath and pulled it to her ear "Leave me alone" she snapped.

"Miss Wilde, please get in the car." The well-spoken voice said, Mycroft Holmes.

"Mycroft Holmes, I presume" she said, rolling her eyes. She looked around the street for a nearby car "There is no car" she said quickly.

"I assure you there is" just as the words reached her lips, a black car with tinted windows pulled up beside her. The door swung open to reveal a smartly dressed woman on a blackberry. "Get in" Mycroft croaked, Elizabeth muttered "fine" as she hung up the phone call and slid into the car, her hand rested on her wound, which pulled slightly.

"Miss Wilde" the smartly dressed woman smiled "I hope that you are not in too much pain."

She smiled weakly "I'm fine" she hated to admit that she was actually in quite a lot of pain.

They drove for about ten minutes before pulling up into an old-fashioned row of houses. She was ushered into one of the houses, which was decorated with antiques. She breathed in deeply, allowing the musky antique smell to fill her nostrils. The woman from the car gestured towards the room to the right and Elizabeth walked into the lounge based area. She sat herself down on a rather uncomfortable looking sofa and smiled at the man in the arm chair. He was clearly tall, slightly taller than Sherlock and had the same cheekbones, although his were less prominent. She noted his neatly styled brown hair and three piece suit.

"Miss Wilde" Mycroft's eyes widened as he spoke.

"Mister Holmes, I assume this is about your brother." She articulated.

"Very good" he said patronisingly "what are your intentions towards him?"

She smirked "I have no intentions, I assure you."

Mycroft rolled his eyes "Miss Wilde, we both know that isn't true. You may deny it but you have feelings for my brother that much is clear." He repositioned himself, settling his leg over the other one.

"I have no such feelings" she snapped, Mycroft smiled at her.

"Yes, you keep insisting" he murmured "but I think we know differently." He raised an eyebrow at her in a knowing manner and she smiled at him.

She blurted out "Perhaps we do Mister Holmes, you seem awfully concerned with Sherlock's life yet he neglects to mention you and refuses to talk to you. Has he figured it out?"

"Figured what out?" Mycroft asked, annoyance clear in his voice as he sighed.

"That you're fucking Lestrade." She blurted out, raising her eyebrow in a questioning manner "he was upset at the discovery, more upset that he wasn't informed, your brother may not show him emotions but he does have them. I'm happy that your relationship with my Uncle has advanced from sexual partners into a relationship, he deserves to be happy…just like Sherlock does."

Mycroft smiled at her "I want nothing more than Sherlock's happiness but you are a danger to him in more ways than you realise."

She sighed and leaned back into the chair, her side aching "this is a payoff" she muttered in disbelief, bring her hand to her face and running her fingers through her silky hair.

"I just want you to know that there are other options for you" he said quickly and she let out a small laugh and gave him a 'like what' look. A small smile escaped his face as he continued "a place out of the city, wherever you chose and an annual salary, more than you could ever make. The freedom to do what you please, all your needs would be catered to I assure you."

"And the terms?" she asked in a monotone, fighting off the urge to attack the arrogant man in front of her.

"Simple" he articulated "I don't want you to contact my brother ever again."

She smiled "what about my Uncle?"

His face dropped "Gregory would of course be kept out of the loop, it would pain him to find out and you've left him before."

She almost cried as he finished, he was right she had left Greg before without a second word before but she couldn't do that again, he was her only family. "no" she managed, her voice weaker than she expected.

"Excuse me?" Mycroft said, leaning forwards.

"I said no" she said strongly, she stood up to make her point clearer. The pain from her stitches burned and her lungs felt as if they closed slightly as she struggled for breath.

"Are you ok?" Mycroft asked, a small pinch concern in his voice, she nodded and he continued "I can already see there is no changing your mind, just be careful." She looked up to meet his gaze "I would hate to see you hurt or Sherlock, be careful." He stood up and took a step towards her, she flinched slightly at the man towering above her "the car will take you to Baker Street or anywhere you need to go."

"No, thank you" she muttered, deciding politeness would work best, he was after all very powerful and influential, not to mention Sherlock's brother. "You have already done enough Mr Holmes; I will make my own way back. I am only sorry that you have taken time out of your busy schedule for nothing."

"I wouldn't say nothing" he replied eagerly, offer her a small smile. She knew that he shared Sherlock's abilities of deduction and the meeting worked as some sort of window to her mind. He opened the door and smiled as she walked out of it "until the next time Miss Wilde."

She turned to look at the elder Holmes brother once more and smirked "It's Lestrade, Miss Lestrade" Mycroft gave her an understanding smile as she turned and made her way down the stone steps.

Elizabeth looked both ways before deciding which way to go, she favoured right, knowing that direction would take her back to Baker Street quicker. She paused, why did she need to get back to Baker Street? That wasn't her home, she didn't belong there and they didn't want her there. That much was clear by John's outburst. She was walking at a steady pace, her feet tapping against the pavement with every step. She tried to clear her mind and stopped deducing people; the lives of strangers had given her something trivial to think about before. But now even that wasn't enough to interest her, she couldn't understand them and she needed to.

A figure in the corner of her eye snapped her back into reality. She turned, there were two men standing on the other side of the road, leaning against a dark car. They were engaged in what seemed like casual conversation, but at closer look it was clear they were waiting for someone. Elizabeth could see this from the positions of their bodies, one leaning on the car back to her, his head turned slightly to glance at her side of the street. The other man facing him, his eyes glancing occasionally to her as he conversed with his 'friend' Elizabeth sighed loudly. She was being followed and was at least 20 minutes from Baker Street, if she continued to walk, they would catch up to her no problem.

She pulled out her phone and dialled Mycroft's number, he answered within seconds.

"Miss Lestrade, changed your mind already?" he asked hopefully, she could visualise his smile.

She lowered her voice, hoping the guys on the other side of the street wouldn't hear her "Are you having me followed?"

"I have no reason to have people follow you" he answered quickly. She almost hit herself.

"Well someone is having me followed" she mumbled "I am twenty minutes away from Baker Street, I can make it there."

"In your current state?" he questioned.

"Yes" she croaked, "I can do it, if their following me, then they may be following Sherlock. I doubt this is about me, keep him safe."

Mycroft answer was immediate "I will. Stay safe and keep me updated." She murmured thanks and slid the phone back into her pocket.

Elizabeth glanced at the men, who turned to look at her. She smiled at them and ran down the street. It took the men a few seconds to pick up their pace and run after her. The street was long but soon enough she would come to a smaller alley which she could easily maneuverer herself down. Theoretically she had the capabilities to out run them, she had a small body mass and was able to climb without much trouble. However, her injuries would slow her down. The burning in her lungs had started and her stitched were pulling painful as her body moved rapidly. The two men running after her, were mid-thirties and physically fit, evidently trained to watch people (perhaps even kidnap or worse) and would easily catch up unless she used her agility.

The rapid steps of the men behind her were closing in; she let them get closer, close enough to reach out before sharply turning into a small alley. The men were unprepared and struggled to stop themselves crashing into each other. The alley was tight and a few bins were scatted below a wall, she sprung herself onto the bins which wobbled and pushed herself on top of the wall. She glanced back at the men who were entering the alley and used her hands to push herself onto the wall onto the pavement.

She landed on her foot and knee, which hit the pavement hard. She winced slightly, the pain in her lungs and abdomen growing. Elizabeth picked herself up and hurried off towards Baker Street, running as fast as her legs could take her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Burning**

Baker Street was a blur as she approached, her eyes were unfocused and her body felt like it was burning. Elizabeth couldn't breathe properly; her lungs were refusing the air which her body needed to survive. The stitches had ripped into her skin and the hospital plaster was pulling uncomfortably.

Her head pounded from lack of oxygen as she pushed on the already open door and scrambled up the stairs to 221B, the pain had become too intense, she struggled to support her own legs. Using the wall as a support she stumbled into the lounge, Sherlock and John both turned to look at her, obviously surprised by her return.

John gave her an apologetic look and began "Elizabeth I wanted to apologise…" she waved at him, causing him to stop.

"Stop…I...I…" she managed between grappled breaths, her head throbbed and she attempted to tell them everything "followed…they ran after…me…I got away…ran" Sherlock's head shot up at the words and he practically jumped to his feet. The action made her flinch and she lost balance, her hand slipping from the wall and her body falling uncontrollably to the ground. Sherlock's hands were on her arms, stopping her body from landing on the hard wood floor. John reached her seconds after, his hands instinctively pulling at her top to reveal her side as Sherlock pulled her to lean on his body. She was pushed up against Sherlock's tall body (which was supported by the wall) as John pressed on her ribs.

"Fuck" she practically screamed at the contact of John's fingers on her bruised skin.

John and Sherlock exchanged looks, John rushed into the bathroom and Sherlock was left supporting Elizabeth's weak body. "This is going to hurt" Sherlock whispered as he bent down and scooped her into his arms, she cried out but couldn't put up much resistance. Her body was limp in his arms, as he walked her through the flat and placed her gently on his bed.

She whimpered slightly as he placed her on the mattress but tried her best to mask the pain. Sherlock crossed the room and sat next to her on the bed. John joined them, his arms full with various medical instruments.

"I need to examine you" he said robotically, she nodded, aware that she would have to remove her clothes. John tugged her jacket off and pulled the white jersey over her head gently, revealing a mass of dark bruising across the side of her ribs. He unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them over her hips. He took one look at the now blood stained plaster and shot Sherlock a look of concern.

Elizabeth pushed her head up to look at the wound "that can't be good" she murmured weakly, her sarcastic tone wasted in the moment.

"No" John answered "I need you to tell me where it hurts."

Elizabeth spoke softly "My ribs, suspected broken rib when I was kicked and the pain was minimal until earlier." She let out a big breath, almost unaware that she was holding her breath. Her lungs burned, Sherlock huffed something along the lines of 'how comes the doctors didn't notice this sooner'. John shot him a lot as if to say 'really, Sherlock?' and turned his attention back to Elizabeth.

"I'm sorry" he murmured in advance for the pain as he pressed his palms against her ribs. She hissed through her teeth and bit down, the pain was as she expected and burnt against her skin. It was a few minutes before he took his hand away from her skin and spoke "Cracked rib, severe bruising."

She nodded tiredly. John pulled back the plaster covering her wound and place it on the bedside table, he leaned over her to give a full inspection of the wound. The stitching had pulled at her skin causing welling of blood, the main concern was the stitching that had torn completely leaving the wound exposed. He sighed "It needs to be re-stitched" the statement aimed at Sherlock who adverted his eyes from the wound and instead looked at Elizabeth's face, she was visually in pain but attempting to put on a brave face.

"Do it then" she hissed, trying not to sound over aggressive.

"We'll need some strong pain killers" John started.

Elizabeth jerked slightly "no, painkillers."

Sherlock's questioning gaze rested on hers "John is talking about taking out your stitches and re-stitching the wound, you will need some sort of painkillers."

Elizabeth bit down as pain surged through her body "I don't need painkillers, I can handle it" she said strongly. John and Sherlock exchanged a questioning look and she blurted out "I use to be an addict, it's not that I don't need them, it's that I can't."

John nodded and pulled on some rubber gloves, he picked up some surgical instruments and cut at the stitching. Elizabeth closed her eyes, the action causing an uncomfortable sensation rather than pain. She clamped her eyes shut as the scissors pinched her skin. John pulled out the stitches separately causing her to dig her fingers into the sheets. The pain was intense but nothing compared to actually being stabbed, or pulling out the knife, she hadn't had drugs in her system then and she had live through the pain, so she could live through this.

She opened her eyes to see the icy blue of Sherlock's eyes, he smiled reassuringly and covered her hand with his own. She was aware of the touch but didn't flinch, the gesture was reassuring and she enjoyed the feeling of his touch. Her thoughts were lost beneath the feeling of John re-stitching her wound, she cried out briefly and attempted deep breaths. She clamped her eyes shut, Sherlock didn't need to see her cry, it would make her look weak and she didn't want that.

"Done" John articulated as he stood up and gathered his medical supplies "please, just get some rest."

She nodded "I will" and looked at the consulting detective who was still by her side. John stared at him for a moment, Sherlock ignored his presence and John sighed, leaving the room. The door closed behind him and Elizabeth immediately pulled her body into a sitting position, her back leaning on the headboard. Sherlock shifted, moving himself round slightly to look at her. He was obviously waiting to be told what happened, she smirked.

"I needed some air Sherlock, needed some space. I'm not used to being so enclosed and John shocked me earlier, I didn't know how to deal with it so I just went for a walk." She took a deep breath (as deep as she could against the pain in her ribs) "I went to the hairdressers and got my hair dyed, the blonde wasn't me and I couldn't focus. Then I got a phone call from your brother, he insisted I get in a car, I was intrigued so I did so and I was taken to his house…"

"His house?" Sherlock interrupted.

Elizabeth nodded "Yes I could tell" she left the explanation unsaid, knowing he would understand.

"Strange, he usually favours warehouses and abandoned factories for first meetings. He must like you" he said mockingly, a small smile appearing on his face.

Elizabeth laughed "I didn't quite get that vibe when he tried to pay me off."

"To spy on me" he said with a annoyed tone, this was obviously a normal thing for the people in close contact with Sherlock.

"No, to break all contact with you." She blurted out, Sherlock looked slightly confused and she explained "he is under the impression that I had some "intentions" towards you, that our relationship is worrying. I declined of course."

"Shame, we could have used the extra income" he spoke sarcastically.

"I don't need his money and I don't like it when people tell me what to do." Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her and she blushed, she spoke quickly to cover up for her last statement "I noticed two men watching me and called your brother to see if he had people following me, he assured me that no-one was following me and I made a run for it. Usually I would have been able to get away quite easily but due to my injuries, I tired easily and didn't have my normal agility. I managed to throw them off and make my way here. You know the rest from there I am sure."

Sherlock was silent, processing the information.

Elizabeth spoke apologetically "Sherlock" his eyes darted to her "I want to thank you for everything that you've done for me but I think it would be best if I left now. I don't want to come in between you and John"

"If you thought that you would have accepted Mycroft's offer" his words rung with truth, she almost forgot that she was talking to someone who matched her intellectually.

She let out a small laugh "Yes, I suppose you are right" she sighed loudly "I still don't think this is the best place for me"

"And your room in a junkie's flat is the right place?" he spoke quickly, with a small amount of spite.

"I'm hardly ever there and it's convenient" she practically whispered, Sherlock had a way of making her feel small, something that no-one else could do.

"Stay here" he said in a usual monotone, his eyes widening hopefully.

"What and share your bed every night? Sleep on the sofa? Pack my life into boxes and scatter them around the flat? There isn't enough room for us all Sherlock; we've only known each other a few days." The words were harsher than she had originally intended but she didn't care, she was speaking sense.

Something flashed in Sherlock's eyes, a hint of pain, but it disappeared quickly. "I want you to stay" he managed, pronouncing each word separately.

She shrugged her shoulders at him and huffed "Why?" she looked hopelessly at the detective.

Sherlock ran his hand through his hair and opened his mouth to speak "I need…" his words faltered; he cleared his throat and started again "I need you to stay, so I can figure it out, figure you out." She raised her eyebrow at him in a questioning manner, urging him to continue "Unlike most people you have captured my interest, I want to know everything about you. Normally, my deductions would be enough but I cannot figure everything about you out, I need you to tell me. I want you to tell me, your explanations always lack detail, there is never enough. I have certain feelings" he almost choked on the word "for you that lack any coherency, yet they make complete sense."

"Sherlock, are you saying that you like me?" she was stunned by his words, her eyes wide and mouth turned up slightly in the corners.

"There are emotions that are unclear to me, I do not fully understand them yet but I want to." He exhaled loudly and she smiled.

"I suppose that would be a legitimate reason to stay" she murmured, looking down at her bruised ribs "I suppose I have to admit that I also have some unexplained feelings for you."

"No, it has been quite clear, yet I doubt you have realised most of the time." He said almost sympathetically.

"The touching" she blurted out, Sherlock stared at her and she blushed before explaining "In the small time I have known you, I have had more physical contact with you then all the people in my life combined, for some reason it feels right."

The silence between them was deafening, neither knew what to say or do next. Instead they just looked at each other, taking in what they could from appearances. A faint pink appeared on Sherlock's cheeks, vivid enough to be registered at a blush. Elizabeth wondered what had caused him to blush and followed his gaze to her body. "Shit" she muttered, fully aware of her lack of clothing. Her face flushed scarlet and she looked down at her bare body, covered by a bra and jeans rolled over her hips revealing the waistband of her knickers. "Could you possibly find me a shirt?"

Sherlock smiled widely at her and moved across the room, he rummaged through her bag and grabbed a blue top. He threw it over to her playfully, she mock screamed quietly and began to pull the top over her head. The simple act of raising her arms caused her pain, she winced and Sherlock saved her by tugging at the top gently. The material fell over her body, she felt the warmth of Sherlock's touch as his knuckles brushed over her back.

Sherlock was stood above her, looking down at the girl in his bed. "Thanks" she looked at him, meeting his icy cool gaze and smiling. He lent down to her level, positioning his face inches from hers.

"You're welcome" he said quickly, his minty breath cool on her face. She licked her lips and brought her head forwards, enough to be suggestive but not enough to completely close the space between them. Sherlock registered the movement and boldly closed the space between them, his lips resting on hers. He pushed gently against her lips, she relaxed into the kiss, allowing her arms to snake around his neck. She expected him to pull back and was happily surprised when his hands moved onto her body. One hands resting on her shoulder, the other snaking around her back.

Elizabeth took charge, deepening the kiss and beginning to explore Sherlock's mouth. She parted her lips slightly, allowing her tongue to run across his bottom lip. A small groan escaped his lips but was lost in their kiss, she pushed her tongue gently into his mouth. She gasped, forgetting to breath and pulled back.

Sherlock looked confused and hurt by her withdrawal, she stifled a smile "forgot to breath"

He scowled childishly "breathing is boring"

She could feel her body heating up at the sound of his words and smiled "I couldn't agree more" she purred, he smiled at the sound and sat on the edge of the bed.

Elizabeth pushed her body forward, fighting against the pain, ready to resume what she had stopped so quickly. He lent back slightly and shook his head like a parent scolding a child. "You need rest"

She huffed "Your no fun" he smiled widely at her as she sunk down into the mattress laying on her back, she turned onto her side, her back facing Sherlock.

"We wouldn't want you getting any worse than you already are" his voice was caring as he leant over to look at her. "Get some sleep."

"Can…" she started but cut herself off quickly, the request itself was stupid and childish.

"What?" he asked, she shook her head "tell me" he said a little more insistently.

"Can you stay with me?" she practically whispered, Sherlock didn't answer. He instead pushed himself up and walked around the bed, to his side. He sat with his back on the headboard, in a slight sitting position. He opened his arms in a welcoming manner, and used his hand to gesture that she move closer. Without hesitation she moved towards him, pressing herself against him and resting her head on his chest. His arms fell effortlessly around her into a hug, she smiled as she buried her head in his shirt.


	12. Chapter 12

**Explanations**

Deep voices from inside the flat wake Elizabeth, she groans loudly and buries her face against the soft cotton of Sherlock's shirt.

"John I told you to keep me updated" a voice said from the other room, the owner was annoyed. Elizabeth blinked rapidly, allowing her eyes to adjust to her surroundings and yawned. Another voice called "she walked out this morning but she's fine now".

"Fine?" Elizabeth recognised the voice as Greg's now.

"You should have told me the moment she left, she shouldn't be out alone" Elizabeth let out a dry laugh and looked up at the consulting detective, her consulting detective. His head was raised and angled towards the door, he was listening to the conversation. A book was open on the bedside table, he had been reading while she was sleeping.

"Do you think they know that we can hear them?" she asked innocently, Sherlock's gaze shifted to her immediately. "Scratch that, do you think they know that were in here together?"

"John is aware; he came in various times to check on you. I'm sure if Lestrade knew, he would have let us know by now" she smirked at him.

She spoke mockingly "If he knew I'm sure you would have a black eye by now" Sherlock looked at her with a worried look that said 'are you serious?' and she continued "he's very protective over me, I am his only niece after all."

Sherlock shrugged the comment off, he spoke softly trying to hide his concern "Is that a usual occurrence for your partners?" she raised her eyebrow at the word 'partners' and he continued "lovers…boyfriends?" she laughed at the clueless detective. She lifted herself off him and turned to look at him, she shot him a simple 'you have to be kidding me' look.

"No" she stated simply, he looked slightly relieved that he wouldn't get punched. She saw his relief and frowned at him "I don't know, I've never had a partner…lover…boyfriend" she mimicked his words, pronouncing each word separately.

A wide smile appeared on his face and she returned the smile "have you?" she asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

"A boyfriend?" he joked, she laughed at the question and titled her head back slightly "it's not my area of expertise"

"A girlfriend or lover?" she sighed, overlooking the detectives sense of humour and focusing on his romantic involvement.

His smile dropped and she could tell he was embarrassed "No, I consider myself married to my work" he muttered remembering the first time he had said that, to john when he questioned Sherlock on his sexuality.

Elizabeth grinned, she couldn't stop herself from making a sarcastic comment "I think you should get a divorce" he smiled at the comment and pushed himself to his feet. She followed his lead and pushed herself off the bed onto her feet, he offered his hand and she willingly accepted. They walked out the room hand in hand, ready to face Lestrade and Watson. She walked down the hallway, Sherlock close behind her.

Her nerved were building up and she realised that she was dreading walking into that room and explaining everything to her uncle. She stopped abruptly just outside the ajar door, causing the unaware detective to crash into her. The force of Sherlock's body crashing into hers sent her flying. She hit the door which swung open, her hand which was still holding Sherlock's pulled the detective forwards, she jerked before landing face first on the hard wood floor. Sherlock tumbled, landing on top of the dark haired girl. She cried out in pain before laughing. Sherlock rolled off her body and onto the floor, they looked up into the curious eyes of Lestrade and Watson.

Both men seemed lost for words as they looked at the consulting detective and young girl who were sprawled on the floor. "Do I even want to ask?" Greg managed, he shot a look to John who shook his head, unsure what to say.

"That really hurt" Elizabeth managed between breaths "you are heavier than you look, Mr Holmes"

Sherlock smirked at the comment "if you had carried on walking then none of this would have happened" she laughed and murmured something quietly that sounded like 'touché'.

Sherlock jumped up with the agility of a cat, his long limbs steady when he landed. He extended his hand to Elizabeth, who graciously accepted, he pulled her to her feet. She stood beside him, their bodies brushing against together. "Uncle" Elizabeth muttered, looking at her visually stressed and confused uncle "I assume you're here to see me"

He nodded "Yes" he ran his hand through his hair, dishevelling it slightly "I have been informed that you stormed out earlier…"

Elizabeth interjected in her usual sarcastic manner "Did Mycroft tell you?" she noted his confused expression "He hasn't told you. We met earlier today, he attempted to pay me off to leave and I respectfully declined." Greg turned to look out the window, she realised that her words upset him and apologised "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. The meeting wasn't about you, it was about Sherlock." She took a breath before adding "I am also quite hurt that you didn't tell me."

John questioned "Tell you what?"

Sherlock sighed in annoyance "That Greg and Mycroft are…for lack of better terms, dating."

John looked shocked and Greg turned around, blurting out "you knew?" he wasn't really surprised, he was sure that Sherlock had known after they first slept together but he hadn't let on the fact he knew.

Sherlock simply nodded and Elizabeth continued "Mycroft had honourable intentions, just wanted to know what my intentions were towards Sherlock."

"And what are they?" Greg asked quickly. Elizabeth frowned.

"What are what?" she deflected.

Greg sighed "you intentions towards Sherlock, what are they?"

Elizabeth stammered "I…we…I haven't th-thought about…" Sherlock arm wrapped reassuringly around her shoulder, his hand placed on her shoulder. Greg frowned at the contact.

Sherlock continued for her "Feelings have surfaced…" Greg waved his hands dramatically, making Sherlock stop.

"Feelings?" he spoke in hushed tones "Firstly, in the time I have known you, there has never been any indication of your feelings, I know you care for John and there was that woman before. But other than that you have never shown indication to caring for anyone else, crickey you didn't even know my name was Greg until last year." He moved his eyes to Elizabeth, who was nervous to hear what he had to say "I have never known you to care about anyone" the words hit her like punches in the stomach "your mother, me, that girl: Bianca Stacks. There was never any indication of any feelings and now your sat here telling me that you two" he gestured to his niece and the consulting detective "have feelings for each other, unbelievable. Un-bloody believable."

Elizabeth paused for a moment, quick to defend herself "You never did understand, did my mother actually explain things to you before she died?" Greg narrowed his eyes in a questioning manner "I'm a sociopath. Just like Sherlock here, I don't feel remorse or guilt, I don't apologise and if I do it's not genuine. It's just because that's what people expect. My feelings of love are not the same as normal peoples but I do have real" she emphasised the word 'real' "feelings for Sherlock Holmes, these feelings were instant and I can't control them."

Sherlock's hand slipped into her own and john muttered something to Greg "I've witnessed how similar they are, I didn't want to believe it at first either but they clearly 'like' each other. Who are we to meddle with that?" Sherlock mouthed 'thanks' to John who nodded at the pair.

"Fine, but when things go wrong don't come running to me" Greg said sternly, she knew he didn't mean it. He would always be there for her in the end, they were family.

"Thank you" she said quietly, her attention moving for John who smiled weakly and spoke mockingly.

"Honestly, they're perfect for each other, who else could put up with them." John and Greg laughed at the statement.

"Dinner on Friday?" Greg asked innocently, she nodded quickly "you too Sherlock?" Sherlock smiled at Greg. "I have to get back to work, but we'll talk on Friday. Stay safe." He directed his last comment at Elizabeth who rolled her eyes at him.

Silence loomed over the room as they listened to Greg leave the flat, when the front door slammed shut they all breathed out in relief.


	13. Chapter 13

**Boredom**

"Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored." Elizabeth spoke under her breath. She was positioned on her back, lying on the sofa with her eyes closed. It had been a matter of hours since Greg's visit, Sherlock had been out since then for a case. John had been tapping away on his laptop, in conversation with his sister no doubt.

John sighed before answering "you could read a book or something" She pursed her lips in response, he acknowledged this "or not"

"I believe that a book may keep my mind occupied for some time, it could be beneficial. What have you got that I could read?" She said quickly, her eyes still firmly shut.

John turned around on his seat to face the variety of books that were stacked in the bookcases. The books had been there when he arrived at 221B, he assumed that they were Sherlock's but paid little attention to them himself. "we have a selection" he mumbled in response, turning back to face Elizabeth who hadn't moved.

Her mouth turned into a slight smile "Have you got a bible?"

"A bible?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow at her.

She spoke mockingly "always the tone of surprise" she opened her eyes, turning to face John and continued "it is transparent that I am not religious but that doesn't mean that I wouldn't take an interest in such matters. Some people believe in a higher power, in-accurately so but they do, I have attempted to understand such matters at various points of my life, this may be the time to try again."

John nodded, standing up and began scanning the bookshelves for the bible. He found it after a moment, picking it up he crossed the room and placed it in her hand. She examines the brown leather bound bible for a moment before opening it, her eyes scanning the lines of text furiously.

The sound of the door opening and slamming shut pulled Elizabeth out of her reading, she had covered a vast section of the old testament within the past few hours. Her eyes had become slightly red and raw from the concentration, she blinked furiously.

Sherlock ascended the stairs quickly, he stopped in the doorway. She placed the book on the coffee table and pushed herself into a sitting position, she spoke before he could. "You want me to question Dylan smith, that's why you have been out so long without an explanation to where you have gone. I heard his body fall to the ground after he shot but he didn't die, interesting…of course you all neglected to tell me that he was alive, no doubt in an attempt to protect me, its touching really. He must be refusing to talk otherwise you wouldn't be here Sherlock, he will only talk to me because I survived, give me a moment to change and I'll accompany you to the station."

Elizabeth pushed herself off the sofa, barged past Sherlock and walked into his bedroom. She peeled off the clothes she had been wearing and replaced them with a pair of skinny jeans and a white shirt with black buttons. She put on her coat and converse before opening the door and descending the stairs onto the street, with both Sherlock and John following her.


End file.
